


How Peter Stone stole Christmas.

by writersblock_x



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 01:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writersblock_x/pseuds/writersblock_x





	How Peter Stone stole Christmas.

You had always loved Christmas, it was your favourite time of year.

This year was the first Christmas you would spend with one Peter Stone, and you were beyond excited to say the least.

You had both decided to spend Christmas Eve together, just the two of you. You’d put in to leave the office early that day and Peter had promised he would leave the office on time.

When you answered a knock on your door at 4:00 pm you were surprised to see Peter standing there; bottle in hand, tie loose and top button undone. You welcome him inside, reaching up on your toes to press a kiss to his soft lips. He places the bottle down on the kitchen table, looking around your apartment suppressing a smirk.

“What?” you asked him cautiously, studying his face. “You really do go overboard with decorations, don’t you?” he chuckles. You playfully punch his arm, feigning offence. You realise that you’d been spending the last few weeks at his place, and he hadn’t been to yours since you had set up Santa’s cave. “Watch yourself, Stone. Otherwise, no ginger bread cookies for you” you say as you make your way over to the kitchen counter, waving the baked goods in his direction. 

Peter throws his hands in the air as a sign of surrender, walking around the island in your kitchen to wrap his arms around your waist as you gather the decorating tools out of the cupboard. “Need any help? I’m quite the gingerbread cookie decorator,” he winks at you, and you can’t help but giggle. The two of you decorate the gingerbread men, trees and stars, Peter stealing cookies when he thinks you’re not looking. 

As he goes to take a bite out of a cookie, you steal it from behind him, holding it behind your back to keep it at ransom. “Now, Miss Y/L/N, if you wanted a cookie all you had to do was ask nicely” he purrs, grabbing you around your waist to keep you at bay in order to take back his cookie. In a moment of chaos, you break free, shoving the whole thing into your mouth wearing a goofy, crumby grin. Doubled over in a fit of laughter, Peter looks at you in mock disbelief grabbing a piping bag of red icing sugar off the table. Before you know it, your arms are pinned to your stomach by one of his as the other squeezes the ingredients of the piping bag all over your face, rubbing it all over for good measure. Peter himself is then doubled over, his hearty laugh filling your kitchen while all you can do is stand there frozen in shock. Your mind now set on revenge you move quickly to the counter to grab the bag full of green icing sugar when you’re swept up into the air. Struggling, you manage to break free for a second, grabbing the bag before being swooped up again into his chest. Raising the bag over your shoulder you squeeze the contents into Peter’s face, thus beginning an all out war. Chasing each other around the apartment, piping bags in hand, your laughter and squeals fill the entire place. 

Finally, you’re both out of icing sugar, calling a truce you both collapse on to the hardwood floor.

“Do you smell that” Peter asks, sniffing into the surrounds. You jump up in a flash realising that your roast chicken was meant to come out of the oven at least forty five minutes ago. Racing to the stove, you open it up inviting a waft of smoke into the kitchen. Slamming it shut, you sit on the floor in defeat thinking about those poor charcoal carrots in there. You turn to see Peter leaning on the door frame stifling a laugh. “Not funny, Mr Stone. You had to take cookie decorating to a whole new level, didn’t you. You’re the Grinch.” you whine throwing an oven mitt in his direction. “I’m sorry, babe” he chuckles, suggesting your favourite take out as a peace offering. “Fine, but you’re still the Grinch who stole Christmas. You’re the Peter Stone who stole Christmas!” you giggle.

Placing kisses atop your head, Peter promises you take out and a Christmas movie to which you happily agree. Peter Stone may have stolen Christmas, but it was at this point you realise he’d also stolen your heart.


End file.
